Quiet Moments
by Maeve of Winter
Summary: Adults Honey and Trixie take some downtime from their detective agency to spend a weekend together. Trixie/Honey.


When her parents offered them a long weekend at their mountaintop cabin up at the New York Finger Lakes, Honey didn't hesitate to accept. She and Trixie had been working cases back-to-back for months now with no downtime. And while she was pleased that the Belden and Wheeler Detective Agency was such a success, she couldn't help but be relieved at the prospect of a vacation, however brief it might be.

Likewise, Trixie needed no convincing, and once they arrived at the lodge, she didn't hesitate to throw down her duffel bag and make her way to the master bath. Like the rest of the cabin, it was decorated to be rustic but opulent, with marble surfaces, exposed stone walls, and even a fireplace, but its best feature was the enormous round tub. Set before vast panoramic windows, they could enjoy a magnificent view down the mountain without needing to worry for privacy.

"Don't know about you, Hon, but I could sure use a nice, relaxing soak," Trixie declared, twisting the faucet handle on the water, steam rising from the spout as it hissed into the basin. "Hell, at this point, I'm fairly sure I could fall asleep in here."

Honey laughed lightly, giving her a kiss on the cheek. "Don't go drifting off just yet. I want to make sure everything's ready first."

A quick survey of the neatly arranged cabinets revealed various toiletries stocked in rows as if in a store, and Honey managed to located a set of luxury bath salts and oils. Bringing them over to the bathtub, she methodically added the contents of the bottles to the water, steam intermingling with the fragrances to tickle at her nose as the products released their aroma.

As she prepared the bath, Honey also watched Trixie undress, noting the changes that had occurred since they'd first met. Trixie had never been pretty, not exactly, but there had always been a very natural appeal to her features, a friendliness apparent in her entire demeanor. But that was gone now, replaced by a sense of calm control so solid that it made her seem borderline dangerous at even first glance. Trixie was just plain tough now, and she looked like it—though in Honey's opinion, it wasn't at all a bad thing.

While Trixie still had her stocky build, she'd traded in the baby fat she'd carried throughout her teens for hard muscle that she readily put to use when they were working cases. Though short, no one would ever describe her as petite; her form was simply too powerful to ever be associated with such a term that even so much as implied delicacy or fragility.

Perhaps the most notable difference in Trixie's appearance wasn't absence but an addition: through her career choice she'd accumulated numerous scars on her face and body. A small one running down one cheek had been gained back in high school, but the other ones had occurred once they'd begun their detective agency together. They were on her back, her arms, her legs, and her neck, etched there by blades and rocks, acquired by jumping from heights, being threatened and beaten by criminals, and jumping from one moving vehicle to another.

"What are you staring at?" Trixie asked as she moved to climb into the tub, smiling as she spoke. "Come on in and join me. This tub is too big for just one person."

But one thing about Trixie hadn't changed—she was still just as impatient as she'd been as a teenager.

"All right, all right, just a moment," Honey told her fondly, shedding her own clothes and entering the tub as well.

She let out a long, satisfied sigh as she sank into the hot water, feeling tension uncoil from her muscles as she leaned back against the side. Trixie wasted no time in pressing against her, laying on her shoulder, and contentment swelled through Honey at the dual sensation of being surrounded by both Trixie's body heat and the warmth of the water.

"This is heavenly," she sighed, moving her hand to gently stroke Trixie's hair.

"Sure does feel nice," Trixie agreed, leaning into Honey's touch.

From her position, Honey could see multiple scars on Trixie's shoulder and arm, her chest and neck. Each one had a separate story attached to it, a side effect of a particular case. The jagged one on her forearm was remnants of a roadburn when she jumped from a speeding car. There were two brief marks on her throat from when a perp got the upper hand during a fight and pressed a heated fire poker against her neck—right before Honey burst into the room and brought a tea tray crashing down onto his skull to subdue him. And the thin, straight line right at the curve of Trixie's shoulder had once held forty stitches from a knock-down, drag-out fight with a hired thug during which he put her through a window.

Honey had been injured in the line of work, too, but nowhere nearly as often or as badly.

Private investigation was work that was sometimes seedy, but it was always dangerous. And Trixie—impatient, impetuous, impulsive Trixie— bore the marks to show it.

"What's on your mind?" Trixie murmured to her, having noticed her silence.

"Just taking in the moment," Honey replied, pulling Trixie even closer so she was sitting in her lap.

Taking Trixie's hand in hers, she gently lifted her arm to kiss the rough scar on her forearm, delighting in how Trixie shivered at her touch.

"That feels so good," she breathed.

"Does it?" Honey asked with a smile and then ducked her head down to kiss at a yellowed bruise in the middle of Trixie's back. She'd gained it during a foot chase through an abandoned amusement park, climbing up a ferris wheel after a fleeing suspect and falling on top of one of the suspended carriages when he'd kicked her down. "I'm glad you like it."

She ghosted her hand over the bruise, and Trixie shuddered, but Honey whispered to her soothingly and continued to kiss the various scars on her torso.

Trixie was impulsive, taking dangerous risks in an even more dangerous job. But Honey was there to take care of her.


End file.
